


think of love as something new

by helsinkibaby



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Battle of the Blades, Community: 1-million-words, F/M, Fluff, Het, Romance, figure skater, hockey player
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 17:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20979857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: A hockey player, a figure skater and a reality tv show cheese fest. What could possibly go wrong?





	think of love as something new

**Author's Note:**

> For a one million words weekend challenge -it was hockey teams and mine was the Vancouver Canucks. Which coincided with me falling into a Battle of the Blades watch since the new season had just started. 5000 words later in a fandom where AUs are not popular, here we are!

From his spot in the wings, Cho can see the ice rink stretching before him like a blank canvas. It doesn’t look as familiar and comforting as it always does, probably because instead of being lit up brightly, spectators’ faces blurred only by plexiglass, the lights are low on the audience, while spotlights dance across the ice surface. A dais is set up along one side, which would never be allowed at a hockey game, even in the days before health and safety was a thing, and four stools are set up for four judges. 

Not for the first time, Cho wonders what he’s let himself in for. 

There’s a soft shush of blades beside him and then a hand lands on his arm. “You’re even quieter than you usually are,” Michelle observes and despite himself he feels his lips quirk up, just the tiniest bit. “You having second thoughts?” 

“Twenty-second, maybe.” She giggles at that, even if he’s not entirely sure he’d been joking. “You think it’s too late to back out?” 

She gives him a look. “Kimball, you’re wearing sequins,” she points out and there’s not a whole lot he can say to that. She pats his arm. “Just think of how much money we’re going to raise for Make A Wish.” 

“If I don’t wipe out on these toe picks,” he mutters and she laughs. Then she narrows her eyes, her ponytail swinging as she looks as him sharply. “Kidding.” He’s not sure if she’s reassured but there’s something else he wants to say. “How are you?”

Michelle blinks, startled. “Me?” 

He gives her a look of his own. “You think I forgot that this is the first time you’ve done this in three years?” One thing he’s learned over the last couple of months or so working with Michelle is that she has no kind of poker face so her surprise is clear. Whether it’s because he remembered or actually asked is less so. 

“I think I’m about to throw up,” she admits. 

He doesn’t say anything to that, just nods and shifts his arm so that he can link their fingers together. He squeezes and she squeezes back and that’s when the announcer says their names. 

“And next on the ice, we have Vancouver Canucks legend, Kimball Cho, with his partner, world silver medalist, Michelle Vega.” 

*

Standing in the wings, listening to them announce her name, Michelle can hardly believe that she’s standing here. A few months ago, she’d been working an office job, regular nine to five hours, perfectly content if not necessarily happy. A dinner invitation from her old Olympic roommate hadn’t been much cause for concern; after all, she’d welcomed a chance to catch up with Grace and any opportunity to play with Maddie, the cutest baby ever, was always welcome. 

It was when Wayne had taken the child to put her to bed that Grace had made her move. “They’re bringing back ‘Battle of the Blades’ this year,” she’d said. “And you’re going to get a call.” 

“Why would they call me?” Michelle had wanted to laugh but Grace had looked too serious to be joking. 

“Because I told them to.” Grace hadn’t blinked. “Wayne and I are going to be judges because I’m still not fully in shape after Maddie. That means they need a new female pro.” She’d shrugged. “I told them you’d be perfect.” 

“Sure.” Michelle had reached for her coffee cup, hoping it would hide her suddenly shaking hand. “The bitch who dumped her partner a year before the Olympics.” 

“We both know it wasn’t like that.” Grace had reached over, covered Michelle’s free hand with hers. “You can do this, Michelle.” A pause. “He’d want you to do this.” 

She’d left it at that, probably knowing it wasn’t wise to push any further and sure enough, when the call had come a week later, Michelle had already been back on the ice, surprised at how quickly things had come back to her. 

Meeting her partner though, that had been good for a panicked phone call to Grace. 

“Kimball Cho! Do you know they call him The Iceman?” 

She’d heard Grace’s smile clear through the phone line. “Is this where I point out that you can talk enough for both of you?” 

“Not funny, Grace!” 

“Look, he’s not that bad; it’s all made up. You know what the media are like.” Michelle couldn’t deny that. “Wayne’s met him a couple of times, at charity events. He says he’s really nice. Just quiet.” 

Michelle hadn’t quite believed that but when she’d actually met Cho, when she’d started working with him, she’d found out that it was true. Sure, he wasn’t much for conversation but he worked hard, listened harder and did exactly what she and their coaches told them to do. They’d made plenty of progress, faster than Michelle had expected and she’d actually been looking forward to skating their program. 

Until right this minute when she finds herself standing at the side of the ice about to throw up. She admits as much to Cho when he asks her how she’s feeling and she’s a little surprised when he slides his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly. “We got this,” he says as the announcer finishes calling their names and she grins as she hears their introduction package start to play. 

Halfway through it, they skate to centre ice, still hand in hand, and they stand and wait in their opening pose until the music starts. She fights back her traditional reaction as the opening notes of Foreigner’s “Cold as Ice” starts to play - when they’d first heard it, Cho had simply crossed his arms over his chest, while Michelle’s eyes had threatened to roll right out of her head. The reaction has only strengthened over the last few weeks. The crowd roars as she spins on the spot to face Cho and then they’re off into then choreography, fairly flying across the ice. 

The program goes better than Michelle had even dared hope. There’s a slight wobble on the mid line step sequence where Cho seems to momentarily forget he has a toe pick on his figure skates, but he gets back into it quickly, flashing her the briefest of grins when their eyes next meet. Her spiral, always a crowd pleaser, gets a round of applause that lets her know that she hasn’t lost her touch and the move they’d both been sweating about - a drape carry lift with her high over Cho’s head - comes off without a hitch. 

It’s all going so well, in fact, that Michelle doesn’t even think about what they’re doing until they hit their end pose and the music stops. The crowd roar and there are people standing and Cho is hugging her and she can actually hear him laughing in what sounds like relief and that’s when it hits her. 

She’s just performed in front of people for the first time in three years. 

And for the first time ever in her life, her father wasn’t here to see it. 

The thought makes her tremble and she’s grateful for Cho’s arm around her waist as they skate towards the judges. He must notice her shift in mood because his fingers pinch her waist lightly in wordless question. She leans into him, pats his chest and it’s no kind of answer, certainly not enough to satisfy him. The judges are effusive with praise their comments - Wayne Rigsby is grinning from ear to ear as he says, “Kimball Cho, was that an actual smile I saw in the middle of that step sequence?” and Cho just stares at him, deadpan, and says, “No.” That gets a laugh from the crowd, as it was supposed to, but the mood shifts, dangerously as far as Michelle is concerned, when she meets Grace’s eyes and sees tears rolling down her friend’s cheeks. “After everything...” Grace’s voice breaks, “I am so proud of you, Michelle.”

Michelle can’t speak at that, all she can do is nod and lean on Cho just a little more. The rest of the commentary, then getting their marks, is barely audible over the roaring in her ears but she’s proud of herself for keeping it together while she’s on the ice, in front of the cameras and the crowd. 

That lasts until she’s backstage and her coach hands her her skateguards. Years of muscle memory means she puts them on blindly, without conscious thought and when she straightens up, Cho is there in front of her. “You ok?” he asks her and that’s all it takes. Her face crumples and he steps into her, pulling her against his chest and holding her as she cries like she’s never going to stop. 

*

One of the things that surprises Cho about “Battle of the Blades” is that it’s relentless. There’s no skate off in week one so the day after the broadcast, they’re straight back to work in the rink, choreographing the next program. (Michelle has successfully drilled into him that it is never, never, to be referred to as a routine.) She rolls her eyes again when their music is given to them and this time, he’s not far behind her. He just hopes that the producers aren’t going to mine every possible song with “ice” in the title for them to skate to, although since he’s heard more than a little teasing from his buddies about having to skate to Vanilla Ice, Pat Benetar’s “Fire and Ice” is a lot more palatable in comparison. 

He also learns he’s not really a fan of the pieces to camera. It’s not a new thing for him - his years in the NHL had involved his fair share of fluff pieces, even if he was pretty sure his less than chatty nature drove editors and interviewers to tears - but there’s a gossipy tone to these ones that hockey fans would never put up with. 

Nowhere is that more evident than the day that he and Michelle sit down together for their second show interview. The first questions are softballs - did you enjoy it, what did you think of the judges comments. But then the interviewer looks right at Michelle. 

The hairs rise on the back of Cho’s neck, much like they used to back in the day when an opposing linesman was closing down on him. 

“Michelle, you were very emotional backstage... was that because that was the first time you’ve performed since your father died?” 

“She’s not answering that.” The words are out of his mouth - not that he’s raised his voice, on the contrary, he’s very matter of fact about the whole thing - before he has time to think about it and he can feel the atmosphere in the room change when he speaks. The camera operator leans his head out from behind the viewfinder, the interviewer’s jaw drops and out of the corner of his eye he sees Michelle’s head turn sharply in his direction. “Don’t answer that,” he tells her, meeting her eyes. 

“Kimball-” she starts but he doesn’t let her finish. In fact, he doubles down. 

“They’re trying to make you cry on camera,” he says, glaring back at the interviewer. It’s the look that made opposing players shrink back and from the way she shuffles her notes, he figures it’s a transferable skill. “You’re trying to make her cry on camera and it’s a shitty thing to do. Change the subject.” 

He expects a fight. What he gets is a new question. 

The fight comes later when it’s just him and Michelle about to take the ice for training. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says and he doesn’t try to bullshit her. 

“It was an asshole question,” he tells her and if he ends up pulling his laces tighter in anger, well so much the better. At least they won’t come undone. “They were hoping you’d cry and I’d be some robot watching you.” He shrugs. “”No.” 

For a long moment, Michelle says nothing, just concentrates on tying her own laces. He thinks she must be really pissed at him, but then he hears, “You didn’t have to... but I’m glad you did.” 

Her cheeks are pink, her eyes are bright, but her smile is the best thing he’s seen in years. 

Except for a few days later when they’re through to the next round, topping the public vote, and it’s even better. 

*

It’s when they’re preparing for week three that she notices Cho’s back is bothering him. Not that he tells her that - oh no, that would require Mr Stoic to actually admit that something is wrong. But he’s a little bit slower across the ice than he usually is, and if anyone noticed, they’d probably think it’s because they have a slow number this week - and thankfully, Michelle notes as an aside, one without an ice related pun. Plus, when he lifts her, she can feel the strain in his muscles, hear him grunt every so often and she’s not vain but she knows she hasn’t gained weight, if anything all this skating has her back in competition shape. 

So when she sees him sneaking a tablet, she grabs the tub from his hand. He protests but stops when she narrows her eyes at him. “Aspirin?” She hands it back and he stuffs it in his skate bag. “You might need something stronger.” 

“I’m good.” He makes to skate away from her but she follows him. 

“If you have an injury-”

“It’s old. I can handle it.” 

“Are you sure?” He stops on a dime, turns to face her and she stares him down, her hands on her hips. “I’m the one eight feet in the air. If your back goes out...”

“Please, you’re what, ninety pounds soaking wet? I won’t drop you.” She must look sceptical because he repeats that. “Michelle. I won’t drop you, ok?” 

He’s so certain, so serious, that it makes her feel uncomfortable. She crosses her arms over her chest. “How bad is it?” 

Cho sighs. “It’s a holdover from an injury I had a few years ago. We were playing in Chicago; I ended up as the meat in a Blackhawk sandwich. It was like being hit by a car.” Michelle grimaced, easily able to imagine it. “I took some pills then.” He stops, looks down. “I took a lot of pills then.” 

Michelle knows, instinctively, that there’s more to it than that. She also knows that if she pushes, he’ll shut down completely. So she says nothing, just shifts closer even though there’s no-one hear to overhear them. “I was seeing someone at the time. She was... volatile. She had her own problems.” Just like that, she remembers the reading she did when she was paired up with him, how he’d dated the actress Summer Edgecombe, how they’d split up because a long distance relationship was too hard. There had been rumours before that though, Summer’s reputation as a wild child being well known, and everyone had seen the pictures of a worried Kimball Cho sneaking into the hospital to visit her after her overdose a couple of months after their split. “It didn’t end well.” Cho’s words bring her back to reality, his lips tight and pinched. “I didn’t like the person I was back then. So I flushed the pills. Never looked back.” 

Michelle nods. “Okay.” 

“Yeah?” Cho frowns, like he’s not sure whether to believe her. 

“I have the number of a really good physio,” she tells him and his lips relax into what passes for a smile. 

“I’ll take it.” 

*

They’ve made it to Week Four, the final a tantalising two weeks away, before what he supposes was inevitable finally happens. The Powers That Be decide that it’s the right time to stage a reunion, invite Michelle’s ex-partner to see them at practice. Their production assistant tries to tell them that it’ll make great television, that the ratings will be off the charts. 

Cho listens and feels his frown grow deeper with every word. 

Michelle walks off the ice. 

Which is most unlike her and it tells Cho plenty. 

Taking matters into his own hands, he follows her to the door of the ladies’ locker room, grabbing her by the arm when she ignores him calling her name. She wheels around to face him, face absolutely murderous and he catches her by surprise when he says, “You’ve got five minutes. Get changed and I’ll meet you back here.” 

Her jaw drops a little, her lips parting. “What...”

“Let’s get out of here,” he says and he doesn’t have to ask her twice. 

They end up at a coffee shop not far from the rink. He sticks to coffee but with hers he orders the biggest, stickiest pastry he can see at the counter. It makes her smile when he places it on the table in front of her. He slides into the booth across from her, rests his arms on the table and cuts straight to the chase. “I’ve never asked about it,” he tells her. “But it looks like you’re about to explode. So tell me.”

It takes two bites of her pastry and three sips of coffee but she eventually speaks. “It was a year before the Olympics. We were skating well, national champions, we’d just won the silver at worlds... then we came home and bang... my dad got diagnosed with liver cancer.” She swallows hard, sucks in a shuddering breath. “It was fast. Brutal. Diagnosis to funeral was six weeks.” 

Iceman might have been a well deserved nickname but even Cho winces at that. “I’m sorry.” 

Michelle nods but he can tell she’s not really there with him at the table. She’s three years in the past, at her father’s graveside. “I couldn’t ... I mean, I didn’t cope very well. Or at all, really. He was the one who first put me on the ice when I was five years old, he was the only coach I ever had... I didn’t know how to do any of that without him. So I didn’t. I walked away and I didn’t look back.” 

“How’d your partner take it?” 

It’s a reasonable question but Michelle ducks her head, won’t meet his gaze. “We never talked about it. The association facilitated the meeting... they did all the talking. I left as soon as I could... haven’t seen him since.” 

Cho let out a long breath, sitting back and stretching his arms out on the table. “You were grieving,” he says, stating the blindingly obvious. “He must have understood that.” 

“So was he. We skated together since we were eight years old, we were so sure nothing would come between us...” Tears stand in her eyes and she tilts her head back like that’s going to keep them back. “I treated him so badly... and if I ever forget, trust me, there are plenty of internet messages to remind me.” 

“Keyboard warriors losing their shit, I’m shocked.” Cho keeps his voice flat and it makes her laugh. Well, it’s probably half a sob but he’ll take what he can get. “Michelle, he agreed to this.” He makes his voice gentle then, leaning forward again. “I doubt he did that to cause a scene.” 

“I don’t know.” But there’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes that wasn’t there before. 

It gives him an idea and after they talk some more, after they go back to the rink and practice, he makes some phone calls, calls in some favours. Then he calls Michelle, asks her to come to his house the next morning. 

She’s surprised but she arrives right on time. “To what do I owe...” Her voice trails off when she sees her former partner standing in the middle of the living room. “Jason.” 

Jason Wylie lifts one hand, looking as nervous as Cho felt the first night of the show. “Hey, Michelle.” 

“I was thinking.” Cho lays a hand on the small of her back, just like he does every day on the ice. “Your first meeting in three years shouldn’t be on camera.” He gives her a small, tight smile before heading towards the kitchen and the last thing he sees as he steps through the door is Michelle with her arms around Jason’s neck, her shoulders shaking as she sobs. 

*

For all it’s been three years since she last saw him, talking with Jason feels like no time has passed at all. Apologies spill from her lips but there are no recriminations, no angry accusations. There’s just his hands holding hers, his voice steady as he says, “Michelle, it’s okay... I’m okay.” Which she knows - an ice dancer of his caliber was snapped up in no time, and he’d made it to the Olympics as planned, even if a medal had been too tall an order. But he’s still skating, on track to get back to the Games, this time as a world champion and favourite for gold. “I forgave you a long time ago,” he continues. “You just need to forgive yourself.”

She cries some more at that and they spend almost an hour in Cho’s living room, catching up. When Jason leaves, she wipes her eyes and heads towards the kitchen, finds Cho sitting at the table with his head in a book. Inserting a bookmark, he stands, looking oddly hesitant. “How’d it go?” 

There’s a lump in her throat that’s impossible to speak past so she doesn’t even try. Instead she walks right up to him, doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of him, and not even then. Her arms slide around his waist, her cheek rests on his shoulder and she closes her eyes and holds on tight. 

It seems like a long time before he moves, one hand splaying across her back, the other cupping the back of her head. His breath ruffles her hair and she hears him whisper, “You’re welcome.” 

They do an admirable job of faking the reunion with Jason and the piece to camera they do, the three of them sitting side by side, Michelle in the middle, is actually a lot of fun, even if a lot of it is at Michelle’s expense. 

“I’ve given Kimball some advice on training with Michelle,” Jason says. “Most importantly, never let her get hungry.”

“Already knew that,” Cho deadpans as Michelle looks between them theatrically and throws up her hands. 

But it’s the piece Jason does alone that means the most. “I’ve watched the show every week,” he says. “To see Michelle back on the ice again, to see her smiling, to see her happy... I can’t tell you how much it means to me.” 

Waiting in the wings, Michelle looks heavenward to keep back her tears, concentrates on her breathing and studiously does not look at the Jumbotron screen. Beside her, Cho’s hand tightens on hers. “Awww,” he murmurs into her ear and just like that, she’s laughing. 

*

Cho notices a change in Michelle as they head into Week Five. It’s semi-final week for a start and both of them have a natural competitive streak has well and truly kicked in, so they’re pushing themselves, and each other, harder than ever in practice. 

But it’s more than that. There’s a lightness to Michelle that wasn’t there before, as if her reunion with Jason has lifted a weight from her shoulders. Her smile is freer, she laughs more easily, and while she was always the more talkative of the two of them - not that that would be hard - quips and jokes come easier now, like she’s trying to make him smile, just because she can. 

She can. 

And she does. 

He doesn’t notice a difference in himself until two days before the semi-final. He and Michelle are finishing up rehearsals at their home rink before studio rehearsal tomorrow. After lunch, they take a break so that he can get a spot of physio on his still achy back, with Michelle supposed to be doing some off ice work in the ballet studio. 

When he gets to the ballet studio, she’s not there. 

He frowns but he’s not unduly worried, just goes searching for her. They’ve got one more practice and he wants to make the most of it. 

When he finally finds her, it’s in the deserted break room and the sight of her stops him in his tracks. There’s a ratty couch there, which he knows from experience is not the most comfortable. It’s not bothering Michelle though, because she’s lying on it rather than sitting, one hand tucked underneath her cheek, and she is sound asleep. Has been for a while if her breathing, deep and even, is anything to go by. Her cheeks are flushed pink, a small smile on her lips and Cho doesn’t think he’s ever seen her looking more beautiful. 

Which isn’t exactly a new thought, but it’s the first time he’s ever noticed it so strongly. 

He gives himself a few seconds, no more, to bask in the feeling. After all, they have a show to practise for and besides, standing there watching his skating partner sleep seems kinda creepy. He definitely doesn’t want to scare her by having her wake up and see him there so he walks over to her softly, squats down beside her and says her name. She doesn’t stir - she must really be out for the count - so he says it again, with a hand on her shoulder for good measure. “Michelle.” He feels her inhale a deep breath and her eyelids start to flicker. “C’mon, sleepyhead,” he says. “We’ve got skating to do.” 

Her eyes open slowly, focus in on him and a sleepy smile spreads across her face. She stays exactly where she is though, and so does he. He doesn’t think he could move if he wanted to. 

He doesn’t want to. 

“You’re smiling,” she whispers after a moment, her voice almost a singsong. He is smiling, he realises, and he feels his smile widen at her words. 

“Yeah.” Even to his own ears, his voice is low, husky, as his hand slides up from her shoulder to run along her cheek. “How ‘bout that.” 

They stay like that for a long moment that’s not half as long enough as far as Cho is concerned. Then, moving as one, he stands and she swings her legs onto the floor, wincing as she sits up. He doesn’t say anything, just takes her hand and helps her stand and when she’s upright in front of him, as close as they ever stand on the ice, he doesn’t drop her hand. Instead he shifts his so that he can lace their fingers together, brings their joined hands up so that they’re resting over his heart. 

They’ve been working together for months but this is the first time he’s ever held her hand without skates on their feet. 

It feels right. 

*

Michelle notices a change in Cho a couple of days before the semi-final, the same day he wakes her from a nap and holds her hand over his heart. Nothing overt, nothing anyone else would notice, but she feels his eyes linger on her a little longer than usual, feels his hand linger on the small of her back as they’re coming off the ice or finishing a move. 

She’s surprised to find she doesn’t mind it. 

Hey, it’s not as if she hasn’t noticed some other things too. She’d been paired with Jason since they were kids, he’d been her only partner but he is a completely different body type to Cho and it’s only natural for her to notice the differences. And because she’d grown up with Jason, he was like a brother to her, regardless of what programs they portrayed together on the ice. 

She doesn’t see Cho as a brother. 

A fact she’s reminded of when he comes towards her in his outfit for the semi-final. It’s very much on the simple side for a skating exhibition number, a simple white t-shirt and black jean style pants, befitting the fast rock song they’re performing to. But the t-shirt is perfectly cut to accentuate not only the muscles of his chest, but also of his arms, and as for the pants... well, Michelle makes a note to stay behind him as much as humanly possible. 

It doesn’t always work but when they’re voted through to the final, it doesn’t really matter. 

*

Final week is both hard work and bittersweet. Each time they do something, there’s an inevitable thought that it’s the last time, and even the news that, off the back of spectacular ratings and interest in Michelle’s comeback, a tour is in the works, can’t quite stop her from tearing up a lot. “I’m definitely going to cry on camera,” she tells him as they sip water at the boards during a break from rehearsing their new rotational lift, one that involves him holding her by the ankle and spinning her around with her head low to the ice. He’s not a worrier by nature but it’s definitely giving him grey hairs. 

“Don’t worry,” he assures her. “I’ll bring Kleenex.” 

She rolls her eyes and laughs all at once but when it’s show day, when he sees her in her finale dress, all short and silver and sparkling, her hair pulled back from her face and curling around her shoulders, he’s the one who gets a little choked up. 

And when he stands in the wings with her, listening to the package being played, when he hears her saying through tears, “I hadn’t skated in three years before this show... to have this experience, to fall in love with the sport again... it’s so much more than I could have ever hoped for.” 

He looks down at her, sees her eyes glistening but the tears stay in check. “You need those Kleenex?” 

He’s double checking but the appalled look on her face makes him want to grin. “And ruin this makeup?” 

“Yeah, ‘cause you look so terrible without it.” 

He’s at his most deadpan and her shocked expression softens into a smile just as it’s time for them to take the ice. 

Their opening pose is a simple one but possibly his favourite ever, him standing behind her, his left hand by his side, his right hand holding hers. As the first strains of The Beatles’ “In My Life” begins to play, he gets to lean forwards, bury his face in the crook of her neck and inhale deeply. Michelle smiles as she turns her head back to look at him before she turns in his arms and places her hand over his heart. 

It’s a choreographed movement but it’s felt more and more real every time they perform it and tonight is no exception. 

The program goes off perfectly, better than they’ve ever done it, including the lift that had given him nightmares. Choreographed so that they finish in the same pose they started, they weren’t expecting the roar of the crowd to be as loud as it is and Cho hears  
Michelle laugh in amazement as the music fades away. He knows they should take their bows but he takes a moment for them anyway, burying his face even deeper in her hair and wrapping both arms around her waist. She seems to have the same idea as him, letting him support her weight completely, her breath tickling his cheek as she turns her head towards him. 

It’s a photograph that graces several news sites in the hours immediately after the show. Cho doesn’t mind that at all; it’s a great picture. 

He’s just got one to beat it. 

Because when Michelle pulls away from him, as he presents her to the crowd, he pictures her not as she is now, but as she was this morning, tangled up in his sheets and him, her hair rumpled, her cheeks flushed from a different kind of exertion. It’s his new favourite memory of her, one that he knows he’ll never get tired of. 

When they skate over to the judges, Grace is sobbing so hard that she can’t even give her critique. “The Iceman, melting,” proclaims Wayne and Cho doesn’t even try to deny it, though his shrug isn’t exactly a confirmation. 

Not that it matters. He knows people are going to think what they want to think and he can’t control that. Just like he can’t control the judges’ marks or the public vote but again, it doesn’t matter how the results go. 

Not when he knows that he and Michelle have won no matter what.


End file.
